


An End

by Casually_on_the_Brink_of_Death



Category: Outlast (Video Games)
Genre: M/M, Mild Language, Mild Sexual Content, Morning After, Regret, Sulking, The Author Regrets Nothing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-23
Updated: 2016-10-25
Packaged: 2018-08-24 04:25:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8357098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Casually_on_the_Brink_of_Death/pseuds/Casually_on_the_Brink_of_Death
Summary: When the beginning of something is more like a door slammed in your face.





	1. Bauble

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Delusion Tax](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3987643) by [Malice_and_Macarons](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Malice_and_Macarons/pseuds/Malice_and_Macarons). 



For Jeremy there had always been a chance. A moment. A pause where a decision could be made. But it was never his to make. It was never weighed. It was never thought through. Some small part of his brain existed in that second to make the choice. He never chose. It was always made for him.

Yet this time there was a chance.

A pause.

A time when he felt the second. So he took it. He jumped in head first through a dark murky water that he could never surface from. But that was fine by him. He could sink to the bottom for all he cared. This was his choice. A point in his life where he could see something. A runway to oblivion perhaps. So he took it. A leap forward not a run backward.

But perhaps he’d never had that choice either. He’d already been sinking for a long time. He’d just had his last chance to grasp for air. That last chance before closing your eyes and feeling darkness blur all around you.

And so he’d reached out with a shaky hand and touched what he should not have touched. His rough hands moved slowly. Deliberately. His thumb at the height of a smooth cheekbone, his hand forming an arch across an unblemished cheek.

And that was the end of deliberately. The bumps of healed scars beneath his left hand. The mouths that spilled words of hatred said nothing. Hands that had gouged flesh flattened on its smooth surface.

Darkness. For to open his eyes would mean an end. Instead he allowed his senses to be filled with Sinclair. Soft hair. Cotton shirt. Musky cologne. Something taking him over. Less Jeremy than there had been for a long time. Less of himself remaining in this shell. The world had drained him of life many years ago. But his tormentor had filled him up. Put him back together piece by piece. Built him up to be somebody. Well maybe this was part of who he was.   
A caught lip. A clash of teeth. No breath to fuel them. Taking all they could until heads light eyes had to be opened. Breath had to be taken. Eyes met eyes.

A pause.

He looked at Sinclair. Who was looking at him with a look that wasn’t quite describable. Then there was no describing done as he was pushed back. Back down the hall. Into a wall. Heated blurry hands of passion tore at him. Buttons hastily burst to clatter on the floor. A bed to fall in. Heat pooling up from the ground. Tormenting and tormented. Harsh claws and teeth. A caress or barely-there kiss. An expanse of flesh.

A pause on a scar. A memory of pain. A kiss of reparation. A beat of the heart. One eye meets another. Let me shield him oh god I beg you. Let not his heart be smashed by this cruel world you dropped us in. Let me not break what is left of him. What is left of me. When will you make us whole again?

Two bodies wounded. Two bodies loved. Where one ends one cannot know. No boundaries for this moment. No walls of past or future. Just a little bauble in time. So easy to shatter as it hits the ground. A peal of joy as it meets the ground. A shatter of pain as it is gone.


	2. An End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When the beginning of something feels more like a door slammed in the face.

Sun. Blinding. Or was that my headache?

Someone else was in his bed. Panic. He felt it. He was, wait no he was fine. Did he do something? Ugh he didn’t want to open his eyes, couldn’t think.

Sebastian knew it wouldn’t go away. Prying open his eyes as he sat up he was confronted with the reality of the situation. What had he done? Looking over he saw the worst part.

In his bed. Probably naked, was Blaire.

Ughhh his head was hurting more now. Funny how the hangover was paling in comparison to the new pain. He could remember flashes. Heated skin on heated skin. Anger but also passion. Hell he didn’t just have to remember it was carved into his body, bloody as nail tracks. Things that shouldn’t be. Because for this, more than anything he could hate Jeremy. 

It was that that got him moving. At least he thought he was. He couldn’t claim logical thought at quite this moment. Grabbing house clothes from a draw he took the time to splash his face with water. Some attempt to clear his head. Instead it just stung.

“Up!” he pushed Jeremy’s shoulder. A little shudder at that small touch. Control it. Jeremy rolled away grunting at being forced awake. “Bloody cold hands” Jeremy grumbled. Sebastian just shoved him again, rousing him.

“Get out.” Jeremy, head still sleep-fogged no doubt just stared at him. One could almost see the cogs begin turning, confusion, shock, anger. Regular stuff. His own reaction. He knew this face. God how he knew it. “I said get the fuck out Blaire!”

Jeremy was moving now. With a slow almost cold anger. Yet he didn’t say anything. It left Sebastian with more of his own thoughts. Without looking he watched Jeremy gather his clothes, his angry grabbing movements. Movements which had been gentle at one point that night. The slamming front door signalled that Sebastian was alone once more.

Beneath the hot spray of the shower Sebastian curled up. Knees tucked to his chest as the water beat down it’s steady rhythm. It stung his red eyes to look, blinding him once again. He lowered his head to his knees.

Damn you Jeremy.

“Damn you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much if you've read this far. I've never written anything like this before so I'm glad. I'm waiting for the original story to update to write some more, but I look forward to where it could go. Hopefully somewhere a bit happier.


	3. Brothers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dealing with the aftermath. When everyone else is gone there is always still family.

For Jeremy there had always been a chance. A moment. A pause where a decision could be made. But it was never his to make. It was never weighed. It was never thought through. Some small part of his brain existed in that second to make the choice. He never chose. It was always made for him.

Yet this time there was a chance.

A pause.

A time when he felt the second. So he took it. He jumped in head first through a dark murky water that he could never surface from. But that was fine by him. He could sink to the bottom for all he cared. This was his choice. A point in his life where he could see something. A runway to oblivion perhaps. So he took it. A leap forward not a run backward.

But perhaps he’d never had that choice either. He’d already been sinking for a long time. He’d just had his last chance to grasp for air. That last chance before closing your eyes and feeling darkness blur all around you. 

And so he’d reached out with a shaky hand and touched what he should not have touched. His rough hands moved slowly. Deliberately. His thumb at the height of a smooth cheekbone, his hand forming an arch across an unblemished cheek.

And that was the end of deliberately. The bumps of healed scars beneath his left hand. The mouths that spilled words of hatred said nothing. Hands that had gouged flesh flattened on its smooth surface. 

Darkness. For to open his eyes would mean an end. Instead he allowed his senses to be filled with Sinclair. Soft hair. Cotton shirt. Musky cologne. Something taking him over. Less Jeremy than there had been for a long time. Less of himself remaining in this shell. The world had drained him of life many years ago. But his tormentor had filled him up. Put him back together piece by piece. Built him up to be somebody. Well maybe this was part of who he was.  
A caught lip. A clash of teeth. No breath to fuel them. Taking all they could until heads light eyes had to be opened. Breath had to be taken. Eyes met eyes. 

A pause.

He looked at Sinclair. Who was looking at him with a look that wasn’t quite describable. Then there was no describing done as he was pushed back. Back down the hall. Into a wall. Heated blurry hands of passion tore at him. Buttons hastily burst to clatter on the floor. A bed to fall in. Heat pooling up from the ground. Tormenting and tormented. Harsh claws and teeth. A caress or barely-there kiss. An expanse of flesh.

A pause on a scar. A memory of pain. A kiss of reparation. A beat of the heart. One eye meets another. Let me shield him oh god I beg you. Let not his heart be smashed by this cruel world you dropped us in. Let me not break what is left of him. What is left of me. When will you make us whole again?

Two bodies wounded. Two bodies loved. Where one ends one cannot know. No boundaries for this moment. No walls of past or future. Just a little bauble in time. So easy to shatter as it hits the ground. A peal of joy as it meets the ground. A shatter of pain as it is gone.

**Author's Note:**

> Consider this a fan story for one of my biggest ships, though they are both insane. I don’t presume to know much about who they are and how they act. Just it spurred my imagination. So make of it what you will. I honestly haven’t even checked my grammar.


End file.
